


A Night Like Any Other

by MmeCurie



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmeCurie/pseuds/MmeCurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plagued by the memories of friends he's lost, Shay spends an evening in an unlikely tavern, drinking to escape his thoughts.  His unusual presence doesn't escape the notice of one of the barmaids, who wonders what he is thinking about.  </p><p>Inspired by what could happen in the missing time between Shay's vengeance against the Assassins and his trip to Versailles years later.  </p><p>OFC inspired by Max from the first season of the TV show, Black Sails</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Like Any Other

On this night, like any other, the room was filled with patrons both kindly and cruel, generous and stingy, dangerous and… not.  The rum flowed, sticky and golden-sweet, causing tempers to flare, hands to become bold and coin to clink on tables and in purses.  The smoke of pipes and guttering candles filled the room with a nebulous cloud that crept into the cracks between the floorboards and tainted the flavor of the fare served with a sooty, tired aftertaste.  Everything felt old.  Even the voices raised in drunken, bawdy song were hollow.   It didn’t matter that the patrons were ever changing, ebbing and flowing with the tides of fortune and time, circumstance and bad luck.  Some things could just never overcome a sense of unease.  Times were changing.  Piracy was dying a slow death and it was only a matter of time before places like this would be crushed under the guise of progress and economic expansion for the rich and civilized.

The man in the corner was dressed in dark clothes that seemed to both absorb the morose mood of the room and add to it.  He sat with his back to the wall and his head turned toward the one small window on that side of the establishment.  It opened to face the sea, a conspicuously unwise placement of such a structural weakness, given the fickle nature of the Caribbean storms that so frequently swept through the area in the waning months of summer.  For this man, however, it seemed to captivate him, or perhaps it was merely the view of the pitch blackness of night, made darker by the lack of stars in the cloudy sky that held his interest. One of the few candles set in sconces nailed to the dingy walls cast an unsteady light across the right side of his face, outlining the rough, unshaven angle of his jaw and the scar that ran from his forehead down onto his cheek, splitting his eyebrow nearly equally in half. His eyes and the buttons of his coat glittered in the half-light.  A soft rise of wind ruffled the man’s dark hair, setting asway the few stray locks that hung from his generally neat ponytail.  They shifted and caught against his cheekbones but he remained unmoving. 

An empty plate of food sat pushed to the side of the table nearest the window, the fork set delicately on the edge in a startlingly precise fashion.  Not a single crumb had escaped from the plate to litter the table. Despite the slight disarray of his hair and the shadowy stubble on his face, the quiet man was the most distinguished and calmly composed person in the room. 

His broad shoulders were hunched forward and he idly scratched his fingernail over the pits and scars that marred the table as the barmaid approached him with a bottle of rum to give him a refill.  He was certainly a man lost in his ruminations and not a bit happy about it, given the way his eyebrows would occasionally shift together and his lips would twitch into a slight frown from time to time. 

He looked up when the woman reached his side.  Not for the first time, she noted the high quality of his clothing, dark as they were.  He was clearly a man of refinement and taste.  He wasn’t difficult to look at, either, with a face and build like his.  A woman in the barmaid’s line of work needed to take advantage of the good among the predominantly awful and sometimes, like tonight, the good wasn’t becoming bad the more he drank.  He seemed to hold his liquor far better than anyone else present and didn’t have the least amount of foggy glaze to his eyes or unsteadiness to his posture. 

“May I interest you in more?  You seem like a man who needs to chase away the overbearing gloom t’night.”  The barmaid had been serving him all night and though he had merely nodded each time she had offered him beverage and something to eat, he seemed grateful whenever she returned and not another of the bar’s workers.  Unlike the last time she had stopped by his table some thirty minutes earlier, this time he actually pressed his lips together in what resembled a small smile.  It had been so transient she thought she may have dreamed it. 

The man held out his cup with a silent nod and she generously refilled it, watching him as his eyes briefly roamed over her revealing attire.  She wore the clothing of her trade, serving men in both the fare of sustenance and that of pleasure.  Her faded blue dress left little to the imagination, for it was cut low in the front to showcase her full breasts, which she considered to be her best feature.  The brown leather underbust corset she wore cinched her already narrow waist tightly and accented the flare of her rounded hips more than she would prefer.  They weren’t hidden by layers upon layers of petticoats so when she walked, her legs were outlined rather clearly by the fabric of her skirt.  Even the most proper behavior of this man before her was defeated by the temptation of a woman’s body so near at hand and amply displayed.  He admired her appearance and lingered on her hips, even if it was for only a fleeting moment before he returned his dark gaze to her face. 

“I’ll just take this then, if you please, and I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”  The barmaid said, setting the bottle down to reach over the table and take his plate.   It was when she was straightening back up with the plate in one hand and the bottle in the other that the man spoke. 

“Have you ever felt like you’ve become someone you could never forgive, even if you knew your choices were made for the right reason?”  His accent was strong, a rolling cadence expressed in a voice that was both soft and deep.  It shone of the foggy hills, rocky cliffs and emerald fields of his Irish homeland.  Despite the sadness in his voice, the barmaid couldn’t restrain her weary habit of making her responses smack of self-deprecating humor or sass.  If she could make a man laugh at her expense or take pity on her, he would almost always take her to his bed.

“Look around you!  Do I appear to be a woman who’s made good decisions in life?  Then again, what choice do I have, being a woman of my breeding?  I don’t know if it’s for right or wrong but at least I get to keep most of my wages.”  Her words, though relatively innocent in nature, spoke of the less than appealing underbelly of being a woman without connections working among men of low caliber.  It always came with cost and loss of innocence. 

The man’s eyebrows shifted together and yet he didn’t reply.  The barmaid sighed and shook her head with regret.

“I’m sorry, good sir.  That wasn’t proper of me to say! I’m afraid exchanging pleasantries and philosophy aren’t my strong suit.  I’m much better at making men forget their troubles in other ways.” She lowered her eyes from him and began to turn away. His large hand slid over the skin of her right wrist, gently and without restraining her, yet she stopped anyway and looked over her shoulder at where he touched her.  His hand was starkly light compared to her dark skin.  She was born and raised in these southern islands, the daughter of a woman who was the mixed progeny of a plantation owner in Cuba and his unwilling house slave.  She never knew her father.  Though her skin was fairer in shade than many of the people of the islands, free or otherwise, that never seemed to matter.  She would always be considered far from the ideals of most men who frequented this place and who would classify her as a woman of color, no matter the shade of her skin.  Many took her anyway, choosing to satisfy themselves with any woman who would have them, and none too gently.  But coin was coin and she couldn’t afford to refuse nor irritate a potential customer.  However, the man’s response took her aback.

“Please.  No.  I’m the one who should apologize.  I let my own affairs affect me too much…  and I appreciate your candor.  It’s unusual in a pretty girl.”  His dark eyes looked deeply into hers for a moment and then he withdrew his hand, placing it upon the scarred table top again.  It had seemed to the barmaid that he had actually meant what he had said and wasn’t patronizing her.  His apparently genuine remark was somewhat unsettling and made her want to ask him why he had said what he had.  Instead, she left his side and took the plate to the back of the establishment to be washed.  In the back she looked at her reflection in the still water of a wash bucket.  Her hair was a mass of tight, black curls, pinned in a hasty updo above her heart shaped face, with a section left to hang down over one shoulder.  Her curls were tiny, small enough to fit perfectly around her pinky finger.  A black ribbon tied around her head kept any strays from escaping the style.  Her teeth were straight and white but few knew because laughter was a rarity in this place and her rounded, dark lips weren’t inclined to smiling beyond what was absolutely necessary.  Above her nearly black eyes, lined with a smoky tint of the only makeup she owned, rose her eyebrows, arched and thick, giving her the appearance of being somewhat surprised, even if that, too was an uncommon occurrence after seeing so many people pass through her life.  Big and small, good or evil… they had all only really wanted one thing and hadn’t really cared for her appearance, nor meant a word of what they said when they were deep in their cups or between her thighs. 

The barmaid watched the silent man from the shadows, unnoticed.  He was still there when the drunken patrons were stumbling outside into the night or lustily convincing the other barmaids to join them in their beds.  It never took any convincing in reality, but men tended to pay more if they had to work just a little for a woman’s body.  It made them feel like they had won something, which was always good for the man’s morale and meant more money in the woman’s pocket.  That night, though, the barmaid’s curiosity had, for the first time, caused her to take a huge financial risk of not pushing herself on an obviously wealthy man.  It was foolish, really.  But he had called her pretty.  He had looked at her, yes, but even the most refined men couldn’t resist a small peek.  The way he looked at her had been different, though.  He looked at her face, into her eyes…  as if she were a contemporary and not beneath him in the least.  He hadn’t given her any indication that he craved her in any way, nor had he handled her the way most men preferred.  Instead, he had spoken to her, asked her opinion and apologized with sincerity, making himself into an intriguing oddity.

The barmaid hadn’t even collected what the man owed yet and she looked down at her feet, wondering if he would stay the night and drink until dawn or if he would want what she had to offer.  She was startled when she lifted her face up and found him looking right back at her. 

“You’ve been hidin’ there for quite a while.  I can’t leave until I’ve paid my due and I don’t think your employer would appreciate me lingerin’ like this.”  The man gestured idly toward the front of the house.  The barmaid hustled over and snatched his cup from the table, angry at herself for getting caught in her foolish, idle thoughts.  She looked over in the direction he had indicated and saw her boss staring back at her threateningly. Her shoulders involuntarily bunched upward in fear of the retribution she’d likely receive for failing to make use of a profitable venture.  The bruises always took days to fade.  Yet, something made her not want to work her contrived charms on this man.  Her mind drifted back again to the memory of his face when he had complimented her.  It hadn’t seemed empty or false.  Perhaps she should try. 

The man took out a gold coin, worth far more than he had consumed in food and drink that night, and turned it so it caught the light.  He raised it with a nod toward the barmaid’s glowering employer before placing it down on the table.  Next, he took the cup from the barmaid’s hand and put it beside the coin.  Regarding her seriously, he got to his feet.  The man was certainly taller than average and built solidly as well.  Combined with his broad shoulders, various weapons and red trimmed garb, he was suddenly far more menacing in appearance than when he had been seated.

“I take it he doesn’t approve when his women aren’t givin’ themselves to the highest bidder.”  There was a hint of disapproval in his voice.  The barmaid nodded almost imperceptibly.  Without warning, he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her against him.  The barmaid inhaled in surprise and offered up some resistance with her hands on his chest.   The old game was hard to deviate from.   He leaned down as if to kiss her but instead whispered in her ear. 

“I’ll take you outside and out of sight but I’ve no intention of treatin’ you the way you’re expectin’.”  He led her past the owner of the bar.  The barmaid wasn’t sure of was how to explain what would be a grievous lack of payment on her part if she didn’t bring back some proof of this charade.  What he intended as a kindness would in actuality become a cruelty.  Perhaps she could say he meant the surplus of his coin was to go to buying her services for the night. 

Outside, the man led her around toward the street.  His boots crunched on the rough surface while the barmaid’s steps were silent.  She was barefoot and the soles of her feet were used to the gravelly combination of sand and corally grit that made up the worn down paths and wider roads of the island.  When they were far enough from the place to not be seen or overheard, the man stopped and took his hand from her waist. 

“Do you have someplace to go? A place of your own?”

“I sleep in the beds of the men who pay me most nights.  If no one wants me, I sleep in a common room upstairs or… with him.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“He’s not so bad.”

“Oh?  Do you like bein’ that man’s whore?”

“I’m not his anything.  I’ve suffered worse than he can dole out.  At least it’s my choice for the most part.”  In the darkness, she just made out the motion of his head shaking.  The barmaid reached her hands up to the man’s shoulders and stepped closer.

“A handsome man like you would make for a nice change, though.  I can’t say I’d dislike a night in your arms.”  The man’s hands slowly closed on her waist and travelled lightly up her sides and back.  He exhaled against the skin of her neck as he bent his face downward towards her.

“I’m not one to turn down a willing woman…  but you’ve already confessed you dislike your profession.  I’d not enjoy makin’ it any worse for you.”  The barmaid pressed herself against him and slid one leg between his thighs.

“It’s not always bad.  Like tonight... I could have you, a man inclined to kindness and good deeds.  Perhaps it’s some of that ‘Irish luck’ as people say.  Don’t you find me pretty, as you said?  Or are you just a good liar?”  She trailed her full lips softly over the front of his neck and up toward his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble on them and breathing outward slowly to entice him further.  A quiet rumble of appreciation rose in his chest and his hands worked their way down to her hips.

“Aye, you’re plenty pretty in my sight, and perfection in my hands…”  a groan of defeat came from him then and he kissed her lips hungrily.  The barmaid slipped her fingers into his hair and returned his kisses.  He spoke the language of lust as well as any man yet the gentleness in his manner was intoxicating.  It made her feel beautiful and wanted…  not just a woman whose body was for hire.  It made her desire him.  She was breathless when he drew back from her and cupped her jaw with one hand. 

“What’s you’re name?” he asked. 

“I’m Noemie.” 

“Come to the _Morrigan_ with me?  I need…  I need someone…  Noemie, please come with me…”  The man was at a loss for words but the way he hoarsely breathed her name was a smoldering flame that hinted at an incredibly deep well of emotion behind his words.  It was so much more than just a carnal need.  Noemie could sense he was a man with regrets and pain on his mind and in his heart.  Perhaps he didn’t want to be alone with his burdens.  She wanted to make him forget whatever it was that weighed upon him that night.  She slid her hand down his arm and slipped her fingers into his palm. 

“Lead the way.”

 

The _Morrigan_ was a ship, as Noemie had assumed.  It was docked at the end of a long pier and at that hour, only one man walked the deck keeping a lookout.  He acknowledged the man Noemie walked with by mumbling an honorific and she caught herself inhaling.  He called him Captain…. Something.  He had seemed a man with substance and obviously had coin to throw away but the captain of a ship?  No captains ever stepped foot in the windward taverns and lower class brothels.  Those places were reserved for the ones who wished to escape their debtors, their wives and dozen children, their problems and their lives.  Captains went to the high class establishments and did it openly.  The women there were sumptuous and beautiful, as pleasant to converse with as they were to bed.  They were lovely and perfect.  Noemie wasn’t any of those things and many men had reminded her of that fact with the back of their hands and sometimes their fists.  She used to remember the experiences surrounding each of her bruises and especially her scars but so much time and the multitude of instances had blurred them all into what she simply called her life. 

She followed the captain of the ship over the shiny, smooth planks of the deck and down the stairs to the door of the captain’s cabin.  He opened the door for her and motioned for her to precede him into the interior.  A gentleman!  Yet, as she walked in front of him into the cabin she unlaced the front of the underbust corset she wore and loosened the ties keeping her low necked dress closed.  As soon as the captain shut the door she turned to face him, pulling the corners of her opened dress down and exposing her breasts and dark nipples. 

“So you’re a captain?”  she asked.  He turned to face her from turning up the lantern on a nearby desk and his eyes darted to her nudity and back up to her face.  In the brightly lit place, he remained as handsome as she had originally thought in the dimly lit tavern on a short while ago.  She could see other features about him that had not been so readily apparent before.  He looked tired.  He was younger than she first thought.  A man of thirty five, perhaps?  He wore the cares of his life like a mask on his face. 

“Aye…”  He watched as she swayed closer to him and began to unbutton his coat.  A small smile played upon her lips and he reached up and touched the side of her small, pointed chin with a fingertip.  His act made her pause for its tenderness. 

“You’ve been treated badly.”  Noemie reached up and touched the place where his fingertip rested.  A small scar resided there from one of her more frightening customers who liked to beat his women bloody before taking his pleasure.  She nodded but didn’t reply further.  The captain spoke again.

I’ve done things…  I’ve… hurt people that I cared about... turned on them…”  He shook his head and continued. “But I won’t hurt you.”  Noemie returned to his coat and continued unbuttoning it, looking at his chest as she did.  If he wished to unburden himself upon her and forget his pains this night, the least she could do was make it complete.

“I’m not afraid of a beating.”

“I’m not beastly like that.” 

“I know… you said that already.”  She pushed the opened coat off of his shoulders and slid it down his arms, looking up at his face.   His dark eyebrows were drawn together and Noemie lifted her hands to the many small buttons of his ivory waistcoat and began to open them as well.  She worked swiftly and soon had only his soft, loose shirt between her hands and the skin of his chest.  The captain carelessly draped his coat and waistcoat on the back of a chair as she pressed her fingers against him, feeling his muscular chest.  It rose under her hands as he took in a breath to speak but Noemie reached up and held the fingers of her right hand just in front of his mouth.

“Be still.  I can see that you’re suffering from your past.  Forget all that, just for tonight.”  She tilted her head slightly to the side and stroked her fingers over his unshaved stubble.  The captain’s eyes roved over her face and down to her chest.  Smiling, Noemie moved her hands to his arms and slid them down to his wrists.  Lifting them both, she placed his hands on her breasts.  Parting his lips and breathing deeply, the captain caressed them, taking them fully in his palms and feeling their ample and satisfying weight.  Letting out a quiet, sighing breath, Noemie stealthily unlaced her corset the rest of the way and let it fall from her body as the captain continued to fondle her. He trailed his right hand up her chest and over her collar bone to the section of curls that lay over her shoulder.  Taking it up, he slid the hair through his fingers and when the last bit of it fell from his grasp he stood as if frozen in place, his left hand still cupping her breast, gazing at Noemie’s face. 

“You’re a beautiful woman, Noemie.  My god, your skin…  It’s the earth and sun together.”  Noemie took in a faltering breath.  His words had opened a floodgate in her heart and she could feel it pounding to escape her body.  Almost without thought, she stepped backwards from the captain and tugged her sleeves from her shoulders.

“Then I must show you all of it…”  She slowly pulled her arms from her dress and held the ruffled edges of it daintily, letting it fall downward in a controlled, sensual reveal of her body.  Stepping out of the circle of her dress on the floor, she turned partly away and looked over her shoulder at the captain.  He was staring at her, watching her every move, taking in the sight of her hungrily.  When he continued to stand there, Noemie smiled at him and beckoned with her left hand.

“Aren’t you going to touch me?”  He crossed the distance between them in two long strides and gently pulled her back against his stomach and chest.  He breathed deeply of her, pressing his face into the curls pinned in a reckless, beautiful kind of disarray on her head.   His hands glided over her skin and lingered on her breasts and then her hips.  Noemie reached back and pulled on his neck, lifting her head up and meeting his lips in a kiss that made him turn her around for more.  He splayed his hands over her generous buttocks and gently squeezed it, keeping her pelvis tight against his. 

Noemie took the edge of his shirt and lifted it upwards.  She nudged the captain’s arms until he relinquished his hold on her bottom and allowed her to pull the shirt off of him.  As he took her again in a kiss, Noemie slipped her fingers just under the edge of his pants and then began to unbutton them.  As soon as they were open, she moved her hand inside and onto him.  Grasping him with confidence, she began to pleasure him as she would any other customer, falling into her old routine. 

The captain stopped her with his hand on her elbow. 

“Don’t!  Don’t.  If I only get one night with such beauty…  I want to make love, not just fuck.  I want it to be memorable for both of us.”  Noemie nodded her head, looking into his dark eyes and finding sincerity there as a contrast to his unexpected expletive.  He led her to the bed and gently guided her down onto it where she lay on her right side to watch him.  The captain removed his boots and pants and then stood looking at Noemie longingly.  She sat up on her right hip and tucked her legs under herself at an angle, unused to such behavior in the men she had been with.  Some had been gentle but never had any of them behaved quite like this, as if she were a true lover.  Usually once their clothes were off, all generosity for her sake was thrown to the wind and the act was done with rather quickly. 

The captain sat down beside her knees and brushed a section of her hair away from her face with his fingers.  He kissed her softly and then drew back to look at her again.  Noemie reached up to him and he took her hand in his, turning their joined hands and kissing the back of hers.  Feeling bold, Noemie moved her hand from his and rested it on his chest, tracing the whorls of hair there with a finger.  She whispered to him.

“You say you want me to remember you…  How can I do that if I don’t know your name?  Shall I just call you Captain?” 

“My name is Shay Cormac.  I am a captain, I am…  a Templar…  and a killer.”  Perhaps he had been expecting her to flinch away, for he looked down and to the side as he spoke the last part, as if in shame or maybe even surprised that the words escaped his lips.  Noemie had no power to convict or forgive him for his deeds yet she wasn’t certain he was looking for either.  All she could offer was comfort so she leaned close and turned his face back to her so she could kiss him.  Resting her hands on the sides of his neck and shoulders and her forehead against his, she turned her eyes up at his and spoke softly to him. 

“Right now you’re only Shay Cormac.  Not any of those other things.  So make love to me as the man Shay would.”  Shay gathered Noemie in tightly to his chest and held her close.  His hands drifted down her body when they loosened, and stroked her skin wherever he could reach.  He kissed her neck and then her shoulders, savoring her soft skin with every moment of contact they shared.  His hands rose to her breasts and he lingered on them, enjoying their fullness for some time before lowering his mouth to her dusky nipples.  He took them into his mouth in turn, causing Noemie to lean back on her hands for support.  She saw him glance up at her from the pleasurable task he had set for himself and he watched her as she gave in to enjoyment.  Increment by increment, tension she didn’t realize she had left her body and she moved with his touch. 

Shay traced his fingers lovingly over the curves of Noemie’s body, down her stomach and over her thighs to her knees.  He followed their smooth, coppery length back up and over her curving bottom and then to her hip, repeating the motion slower the second time.  He tipped his hand down to the inside of her thigh and instead of travelling downward, he moved up instead, coming to rest over the tight curls of her sex.  Noemie’s breathing turned ragged and she shifted her hips forward in anticipation.  Shay was transfixed.  Outside of the brightest area of the lantern’s illumination, the mix of light and shadow played favorably on Noemie’s dark skin as she tilted her hips and arched her back under his touch, growing ever needier for what was to come.  She was as sensual and enticing as the exotic spices he had plundered from ships returning from the West Indies.  Her curves and softness called to him, her quiet, almost restrained noises of pleasure and breathy enjoyment led him onward; he couldn’t have stopped even if his ship were sinking.  How could such a beautiful creature exist in this world, in his very cabin, and allow as wretched a soul as himself to touch her?  Her coal-black eyes seized his in the semidarkness and broke him free of his thoughts; they led him captive toward her parted lips and the shine of her tongue just inside. 

As Shay kissed her, Noemie clung to his shoulders, moved her hips under his hand and shifted her left leg from under his body until he was between her knees.  Her act told him she wanted him just as much as he wanted her so he pressed his fingers against her, slowly opening her to his touch.  Noemie’s head fell backwards onto the pillow when he found her hidden jewel.  Shay touched her lightly there with two fingers, going slowly for just a few moments before moving down and dipping into her well of warmth, causing them both to sigh audibly at almost the same moment.  Noemie’s vocal cry was for experiencing genuine arousal and a deep longing for the man who seemed to care, not for his own pleasure, but for hers.  Shay’s lower one was for finding her slick with desire and he became all the more aroused for it.  He let his fingers enter her slowly, taking his time and watching the lovely woman beneath him cry out and fling her left arm up to seize the pillow under her head. 

The pleasure she was experiencing as Shay moved his fingers steadily inside her made Noemie shaky and unable to bear lying relaxed.  She pressed her thighs against his strong legs between them, squeezing the muscles of her lower body in an effort to feel his touch even more.  He responded by kissing her breasts and slowly pushing his fingers as deep inside her as he could reach before resuming his steady pace.  He alternated with slipping them out and rubbing her little pearl of pleasure, using her wetness to his advantage and then returning to her inviting, warm wetness.  Within only a few minutes of Shay’s deft attentions, Noemie was crying out and lifting her hips in tandem with his motions.  Her enthusiasm was too much for Shay and in one quick movement, he slid his body downward, grasped her hips and took a long taste of her.  He groaned in delight at her tart sweetness and felt her body tremble under his ministrations.  He used his forearms to keep her legs opened wide despite the quivering tension in her thighs as she reached down and clutched the sheets beside her.

“Shay!  Oh!”  She cried out, articulate at last but for only a moment as her body finally gave in to his persistent attentions.  He used his fingers and clever tongue to make her ever more vocal in her enjoyment, not letting up even as she writhed and bucked, until she screamed out her release.  Noemie panted after the surges of pleasure waned enough for her to relax.  Taking his fingers from her and giving her a few final long, deep strokes with his tongue, Shay lifted his face up and admired her womanly parts displayed so prettily before him.  Lightly, he ran his finger over the outer edges of Noemie’s shining folds, dipping teasingly inside for only a second just to watch her react to it.  Her whole body arched and she let out a throaty, lustful moan, making Shay unable to resist her any longer. 

Crawling upwards over her, Shay kissed his way up her abdomen.  He stopped to take her breasts in his hands, pushing their ample softness upwards and together so he could taste both nipples easily with only a turn of his head.  Noemie laced her slender fingers in his hair beneath his ponytail and pressed her shoulders back to raise her chest up to him more.  He slowly moved up to her neck, trailing his tongue over the tops of her breasts and over her collar bones, laying slow, warm kisses in all the right places. 

At last Shay stopped and hovered his mouth just over Noemie’s.  Their quiet breathing mingled in the increment of space between them as they watched each other’s faces.  Noemie reached to Shay’s grizzled cheek and stroked his barely there beard.  The tiny, staccato sounds of each coarse hair sliding against the minute textures of her fingers seemed loud in the quiet of their embrace.  Here was a man who made love with more than just his body.  There was an intangible connection between them in those moments that neither of them would be capable of describing afterwards, had anyone asked. Both of them had long ago discounted the concept of sharing mutual affection for another: unattainably idealistic for Noemie in her life situation; too painful to live through again for Shay, who had been forced to kill the one he cared for long ago out of a sense of duty to the world. 

Pain drove them both together and in the space of a few heartbeats, they shared the same plane of consciousness.  Lifting her head from the pillow just enough to touch Shay’s lips, Noemie reached to the back of his neck and drew him down to her, doing so not out of her years of training but because she wanted to.  Shay shifted his hips and used his left hand to guide himself into Noemie as they kissed.  He moved slowly, tenderly, listening to Noemie’s sighs and quick breaths, kissing her and reveling in the way her body responded to him.  Her fingers grasped his shoulders and arms and twitched tighter in pleasure; her legs shifted against his but stayed tight against him with her feet turned inwards no matter how she moved.  He could even feel her toes curl against the backs of his thighs.

Noemie tipped her head back, breaking their kisses and Shay lifted himself up slightly so he could move a little faster.  Noemie’s body and breasts shifted satisfyingly with his rhythm; she cried out quietly in pleasure and the sight of her beneath him was like a drug for Shay.  Her skin was so darkly beautiful and every part of her sung to his senses.   He reached a hand to one of her intoxicating breasts and squeezed it softly, really feeling it in his palm.  Her nipples were hard and perfect and she felt so good everywhere he touched her. 

Noemie, too, was lost in an oblivion all her own.  No one had ever treated her like this and certainly never expended so much energy on her enjoyment.  She gave herself up to it and drank it in, letting the sensations flow over her and through her, not wanting it to ever end.  Shay made her feel lovely and elegant, desirable in mind and body, for why else would he seek out her liking so thoroughly if he were only interested in his own satisfaction?  The concept made her feel weak and vulnerable yet she thrilled at it too.  And so she stopped thinking about any of it; not her past, not her future, only the present moments as they passed, each one unbearable and magnificent at once.  His skin was warm under her fingers, smelling of sweat, leather, gunmetal and undertones of salty ocean brine.  When she closed her eyes she could almost imagine the ship far out at sea and the waves moving with their bodies as they enjoyed every moment of their union.  It only felt better when Shay began to move faster and enter her deeper.  His hands moved to the mattress on either side of her head and his breathing became ragged and tinged with soft groans as he neared his limits.  Noemie watched his face and finally captured his mouth once again to join him in his mounting pleasure.  He filled her again and again, deep and demanding yet always tender and Noemie felt her pleasure building up and taking her over into yet another oblivion so she let her head fall back onto the pillow and allowed the sensations to consume her completely.

At the sight and sound of Noemie climaxing for a second time, Shay could no longer withhold his need and so he allowed himself to let go of all his remaining restraint.  He thrusts were deep and rapid, enough to bring him to his release and at the last moment he pulled himself from her body and let his seed spill onto her low stomach. The translucent white of it caught the light and pooled in her navel as she panted beneath him; it lay like scattered opals over her coppery skin.  Shay lowered himself onto his side on Noemie’s left and traced his fingers up over her breast and across her chest to her neck.  She turned her face to him and smiled.  Shay’s face and neck were beaded with sweat and his chest rose and fell slowly as he watched her silently. 

Noemie ran the fingers of her right hand along the surface of her stomach, trailing the tips of them through the viscid evidence of their love making.  He’d even taken care to do his part in ensuring a child would not result from their union.  Such an act performed on purpose was nearly unheard of from the men she serviced; it was yet another oddity in this man.  Shay sat up and stretched his arm over the headboard to where a basin and pitcher sat.  After dampening a cloth, he reached down towards her stomach.  Noemie attempted to take the cloth from him but he moved his hand out of her reach.  The water was cool on her skin as Shay swept the cloth over her, bathing away every bit of his seed, turning the cloth as needed and even gently using a folded corner of it to clean her navel, making Noemie laugh at his throughness.

The sound of it made Shay look up from her stomach and stare at the woman in his bed.  She was so incredibly beautiful already; her lilting laugh made her mesmerizing.  The few words they had spoken to each other had been candid and unswervingly open, despite the emotions involved, at least on his part.  He hadn’t hidden that he was saddened by his actions, however necessary and Noemie had unapologetically reminded him that she would accept him no matter what.  Somehow Shay didn’t think that was entirely due to her occupation at the tavern.  She was more than a barmaid, more than a whore in his bed for pay.  She was lovely, witty in a cynical way that appealed to his own wry thoughts; he didn’t want to let her go but his stray thoughts could keep, at least the moment. 

Shay tossed the cloth onto the table next to the pitcher and leaned over to kiss Noemie.  She kissed him back and when they parted, she stroked his neck and shoulder affectionately.  Feeling exhaustion coming over him at last, Shay lay back in the bed and invited Noemie with a gesture to come closer.  She did and rested her curly head down on his shoulder, once again tracing the patterns of his chest hair with her fingers.  Despite his need to sleep, Shay lay watching Noemie as she drifted off to sleep on him, her hand slowing and coming to a rest over his stomach.  

The lantern eventually guttered, having used up its fuel, and sent the cabin into darkness.  Shay listened to the even sounds of Noemie breathing and wished they were both different people in another place and under better circumstances than their own. 

The morning light streaming into the tinted windows of the cabin made Shay start awake.  He was surprised he had slept at all, given his whirling thoughts the previous night, but even more shocking was how late he had slept.  Usually a fairly early riser, it was clear he had slept through until what must be mid-morning already.  The sight of Noemie beside him made him forego any thought of leaping out of bed at all.  Her back was to him and she breathed so slowly and deeply she barely moved at all. The long, sinuous line of her spine was before his eyes, the shape of her naked body languorous in sleep.  In the golden light filling the cabin, she was a polished, deep bronze effigy of a sleeping woman, all cambers and curves, dips and rises, round and soft in all the right places.  Shay’s hand drifted through the still air and he lowered one finger to the elevated shoulder before him.  Almost surprised at the heady warmth of her skin, he traced down her shape, following the dip of her waist and up onto the rise of her hip.  He curved down around the swell of her buttocks and trailed along the dark crevice between them and then slid along the shallow valley of her spine, opening his hand so that his palm skimmed the surface of her shoulder.    Noemie breathed deeply and turned to lay on her back as he completed the circuit of her curves.  She took his hand that still hovered in the air over her and drew it down to her chest over her heart and lay her hand over his.

Her eyes were as dark and beautiful as Shay had remembered.  An impulsive thought came to mind and escaped him before he could stop it. 

“Come with me.  I sail from here on the next tide.”

Noemie squinted her eyes and regarded Shay with skepticism.  His forehead wrinkled slightly with concern but then smoothed out when she smiled. 

“You don’t need to make grand offers to keep me from forgetting you, Shay Cormac, captain of the _Morrigan_.” Noemie smiled again after she spoke. 

“It’s not just an offer.  I’m askin’ you to stay.  With me.  You’re too remarkable to leave behind and I couldn’t sleep knowin’ you were back in that place.  You deserve the world and I want to be the one to give it to you.  Please, Noemie.”  Shay took her hand in his where they still lay on her chest.

“Do I?  You’re the first to say such a thing.”

“I’m a man of my word and I mean what I say.”  At his words, Noemie broke eye contact with him and stared at the ceiling, considering.  I would mean adventure in the least.  It was risky to leave everything behind her to go with a man she only barely knew, but she took potentially deadly risks every night when she gave herself to men of questionable nature.  She turned back to look at Shay.  He was naked, as he had been when they had climbed into bed the night before, but his expression was even more so.  His eyes conveyed earnesty and conviction in their shaded amber depths.

Shay took her silence as refusal and sought to convince her further.

“If there’s anythin’ you need from the tavern…” he began, but Noemie cut him off.

“No.  There’s nothing I need from there.  I had some clothes and a little bit of coin…  No matter.”  Noemie looked hard into Shay’s eyes and took note of the lines that formed around them when he smiled. 

“I…  Shay…  If I don’t show up at the tavern by tonight, he’ll come looking.  He’ll find out who you are and come here to get me back.  I’ll be lucky to survive the beating he’ll give me for desertion.”  Noemie’s words took the smile from Shay’s face and replaced it with a serious expression.

“We will be gone long before then.  We’ll make our own luck.”


End file.
